CHAPTER 46 – THE NEW YEAR'S BALL

The week that ensued unfolded in a blissful haze of camaraderie and conviviality, a temporary reprieve from the looming shadows of Voldemort's menace awaiting them in England. Amidst the tranquil ambiance of Chateau Delacour, the weight of apprehension lifted, if only momentarily, allowing the inhabitants to revel in the warmth of familial bonds and the joy of shared moments.

Despite the prevailing tranquility, the specter of Voldemort's tyranny remained an ever-present undercurrent, a reminder that their respite was fragile and transient. Uncertainty hung in the air like a thick fog, casting a pall over their idyllic haven, serving as a stark reminder that danger could materialize at any moment.

Yet, in the embrace of their French sanctuary, such concerns seemed distant, relegated to the periphery of their consciousness as they savored the bliss of the present moment, cherishing each fleeting instance of respite from the harsh realities of their world.

But all good things must come to an end, and as the penultimate day of the year dawned, the party reluctantly began preparations for their departure. With heavy hearts, they bid adieu to the tranquil refuge of Chateau Delacour, retracing their steps through the Floo network to the familiar confines of the ambassador's manor.

As the Grangers bid their gracious hosts farewell and departed for the comforts of their own home, promises of future reunions hung in the air, exchanged amidst heartfelt expressions of gratitude and goodwill.

With the departure of their esteemed guests, attention turned to the eagerly anticipated New Year's ball, the final flourish of their French sojourn. Amidst a flurry of activity and anticipation, Fleur found herself ensconced in front of her vanity, meticulously scrutinizing her reflection in the looking glass.

Dressed in an elegant evening gown of midnight blue, she couldn't help but admire the flattering hue against her complexion. Her hair, an intricate tapestry of braids and curls, was artfully arranged atop her head, lending an air of regal sophistication to her appearance.

Lost in contemplation, Fleur's reverie was interrupted by the sound of a soft knock on her chamber door. "Enter," she called out, her voice tinged with a note of curiosity.

In strode Gabrielle, her younger sister, a mischievous twinkle dancing in her azure eyes. "Oh, Fleur, you look positively radiant!" she exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious as she twirled around the room in a whirl of excitement.

Fleur couldn't help but smile at her sister's exuberance, her heart swelling with affection for the spirited young girl who never failed to brighten her days. "Thank you, Gabrielle," she replied warmly, reaching out to tousle her sister's golden locks affectionately. "And what of you? Are you prepared to dazzle the guests with your charm and grace?"

Gabrielle beamed at the compliment, her cheeks flushing with a becoming hue of pink. "Of course, dear sister," she declared with mock seriousness, striking a dramatic pose before bursting into a fit of giggles. "But enough chatter, we mustn't keep the others waiting! The ball awaits, and who knows what adventures the night may bring!"

With a shared laugh, the sisters linked arms, their footsteps echoing through the corridors of the manor as they made their way to join the festivities unfolding below. In that moment, amidst the anticipation of the evening ahead, Fleur couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the cherished moments she shared with her loved ones, knowing that no matter what trials awaited them in the days ahead, they would face them together, bound by the unbreakable bonds of family and friendship.

Fleur couldn't deny the knot of apprehension tightening in her chest as the evening approached. Unlike the anticipation she felt for the Yule Ball, this occasion filled her with a sense of foreboding. While she enjoyed dancing and relished Harry's company, she couldn't shake the looming specter of the impending ball. She knew all too well the prejudices that lurked within British Wizarding society, waiting to cast their shadow upon any who dared defy their narrow-minded ideals.

With a heavy sigh, Fleur cast a critical eye over her reflection in the mirror, her thoughts swirling with a mixture of resignation and defiance. She knew that despite the warmth and kindness of many, there would always be those who sought to diminish her worth based on her heritage, to reduce her to nothing more than a target for their bigotry and disdain.

Gathering her resolve, Fleur wrapped herself in her cloak, steeling herself for the challenges that lay ahead. She tried to convince herself that it wouldn't be so bad, that the moments of discomfort would be outweighed by the joys of the evening. Yet, deep down, she couldn't shake the gnawing fear that the sting of prejudice would taint even the most pleasant of experiences.

Just as she resigned herself to facing the evening ahead, a familiar knock sounded at her door, and Hermione's head appeared, her expression a mixture of sympathy and understanding.

"Fleur, are you ready yet?" Hermione inquired softly, her voice laced with empathy.

Fleur managed a rueful smile, her shoulders sagging with the weight of her apprehension. "As ready as I'll ever be," she replied, her tone tinged with resignation.

Hermione's smirk held a hint of mischief as she teased, "It sounds like someone isn't looking forward to a night in the arms of her betrothed."

"If it were just Harry and me, I would be content," Fleur admitted with a wistful sigh. "But it's everything else that I dread."

Hermione's expression softened, empathy flickering in her eyes as she settled onto the edge of the bed beside Fleur. "I know what you mean," she murmured, her voice tinged with quiet determination. "To most of these people, I'm nothing more than an uppity Mudblood who doesn't know her place. To them, I have no business being anywhere near the Boy-Who-Lived."

In that moment of shared understanding, Fleur found solace in Hermione's companionship, a reminder that she wasn't alone in facing the trials ahead. Together, they would weather the storm of prejudice and bigotry, drawing strength from their bond of friendship as they braved the challenges of the evening ahead.

Fleur chuckled at Hermione's retort, her amusement tempered by the bitter truth underlying their banter. "True enough," she conceded with a wry smile, her fingers curling into a fist in a gesture of defiance. "English society has never been renowned for its warmth or inclusivity, as we both know all too well."

Hermione's response was laced with mock severity, her tone tinged with sarcasm. "Oh, I'm sure Malfoy considers me a paragon of humanity," she quipped, her lips curling into a wry smirk. "Absolutely."

Fleur couldn't help but laugh at Hermione's jest, recognizing the uncomfortable truth hidden within the humor. "Ah, the joys of social acceptance," she mused, her grin widening. "We truly are living the dream, aren't we?"

The levity of their exchange provided a momentary respite from the weight of their apprehension, a shared acknowledgment of the absurdity of their predicament. "But in all seriousness," Fleur continued, her expression softening with genuine affection, "it won't be as dreadful as we fear. We have each other, and many of our friends will be there to offer support. Not everyone is a narrow-minded bigot, after all."

Hermione nodded in agreement, though the lingering traces of uncertainty were evident in her gaze. "I know," she conceded with a sigh. "I just wish we didn't have to deal with this nonsense. But since you invited me, I couldn't very well refuse, could I?"

Fleur's heart warmed at Hermione's acceptance of her invitation, grateful for the solidarity of their friendship amidst the tumult of their circumstances. "Then let us make a pact to watch out for each other," she proposed, her tone earnest. "Together, we can navigate the evening unscathed."

Hermione's smile was genuine as she returned Fleur's embrace, a silent testament to the bond they shared. Fleur found solace in the knowledge that, despite the challenges they faced, she had a steadfast ally in Hermione, a friend who understood her struggles and stood by her side through thick and thin.

"That sounds like a plan, Fleur," Hermione agreed warmly, her eyes alight with determination. "But for tonight, I think I'll stick close to some of our other friends. Strength in numbers, after all."

Fleur's brow furrowed with concern as she observed Hermione's uncharacteristic reticence, her heart aching at the hint of self-doubt in her friend's demeanor. "Hermione, what's on your mind?" she inquired softly, her voice laced with genuine concern.

Hermione hesitated for a moment, her fingers absently toying with the delicate lace of her gown as she struggled to articulate her thoughts. "This is your night, Fleur—yours and Harry's," she began, her tone tinged with quiet reflection. "You've been so gracious in including me in everything, but I can't help feeling like I've been imposing lately."

Fleur's protest was swift and vehement, her determination evident in the firmness of her voice. "No, Hermione—"

But Hermione cut her off with a gentle yet resolute interjection. "I know you don't see it that way," she continued, her gaze averted as she sought to convey her thoughts. "But I do. Tonight is your introduction to society, and I feel like I should step back, give you and Harry some space. You'll be meeting so many people, and I don't want to intrude."

Fleur shook her head adamantly, her resolve unwavering as she sought to dispel Hermione's misconceptions. "You haven't been an intrusion, Hermione," she insisted earnestly, her words laden with sincerity. "Your friendship and support have meant the world to me, especially during my transition to life at Hogwarts."

Leaning closer, Fleur fixed Hermione with a determined gaze, her eyes brimming with unwavering loyalty. "And I want you to know, Hermione, that I've never considered you anything less than family. I've tried not to push you, but you should know that I would be honored to have you as a sister. You haven't been in the way, not for a moment."

Hermione's expression softened at Fleur's heartfelt words, though the lines of uncertainty remained etched upon her features. "But Fleur, there are reasons why tonight should be about you and Harry," she insisted, her voice tinged with conviction. "Even if I had made a decision about my own future, I wouldn't want it to overshadow the alliance between the Potters and the Delacours. I don't want to complicate things for you both."

Fleur reached out, gently grasping Hermione's hand in a gesture of solidarity. "You could never complicate things for us, Hermione," she declared fervently, her voice filled with unwavering resolve. "You're a valued friend, and your presence tonight would only enhance the joy of the occasion. But I understand your concerns, and I'll respect your decision. Just know that you're always welcome by our side, now and always."

As another knock echoed through the room, Hermione rose to answer it, but not before imparting her final words of reassurance to Fleur. "This is the best way, Fleur," she affirmed, her voice tinged with gratitude. "I appreciate your patience, and I promise to give you and Harry an answer as soon as I can. In the meantime, enjoy his company tonight. Be selfish for once, and keep him all to yourself."

Fleur couldn't help but smile at Hermione's encouragement, her heart warmed by the genuine affection and understanding that flowed between them. "Thank you, Hermione," she replied softly, her voice filled with appreciation. "I'll cherish every moment."

With a final nod of reassurance, Hermione strode purposefully to the door and swung it open, revealing a visibly nervous Harry on the threshold.

"She's right in here, Harry," Hermione announced cheerfully, leaning forward to plant a kiss on his cheek. "You're positively dashing tonight, I must say. In any case, I'll catch up with you both later in the ballroom."

Harry watched Hermione's departure with a mix of emotions flickering across his features, his expression inscrutable to Fleur's keen gaze. A fleeting pang of… something—regret, perhaps, or wistfulness—fluttered in Fleur's chest as she observed him. She knew deep down that offering a part of Harry to Hermione was the right thing to do, but a small part of her couldn't help but wish that he was hers and hers alone.

Shaking off her momentary reverie, Fleur resolved to push such thoughts aside. What was done was done, and dwelling on it served no purpose. Harry was with Hermione now, and that was that. Besides, Fleur couldn't deny that Hermione was a remarkable person, deserving of Harry's love.

As Harry turned his attention to her, Fleur greeted him with a warm smile, banishing any lingering doubts from her mind. Tonight was about enjoying each other's company, relishing the joy of the moment, and she was determined to make the most of it.

The thought of Harry ever entertaining feelings for someone like Parkinson, however, elicited a stifled giggle from Fleur, her hand flying to her mouth to muffle the sound. The mere notion was preposterous—Harry had far too much discernment to fall for someone like that.

As Harry entered the room, closing the door behind him, Fleur found herself momentarily taken aback by the sight of him. Despite the two-year age gap that some might raise eyebrows at, she couldn't help but feel a surge of affection and admiration for the young man standing before her. In her eyes, he was nothing short of perfect.

With each passing day, Fleur's conviction grew stronger that Harry was the one for her. He possessed a rare combination of qualities that endeared him to her more with each passing moment. He was gentle yet assertive, confident yet humble, and his recent growth spurt had only added to his appeal, leaving Fleur looking up at him—both figuratively and literally—with newfound admiration. And then there were his enchanting green eyes, captivating enough to ensnare the heart of any maiden.

Yes, despite her Veela heritage and magical allure, Fleur couldn't shake the feeling that Harry was the one who truly had the upper hand in their relationship, both in looks and in character. Their age difference, she reasoned, would be inconsequential in the long run. Fleur eagerly anticipated their future together, despite the obstacles that fate had thrown in their path.

"Hi, Fleur," Harry greeted her somewhat bashfully as he approached. Fleur couldn't help but notice a hint of nervousness in his demeanor, a departure from the ease with which they usually interacted. It piqued her curiosity, leaving her to wonder what he had on his mind.

Returning his smile, Fleur rose to meet him, pressing a tender kiss to his cheek before guiding him to the bed, where she settled beside him. Keeping his hand securely within her own, she regarded him with affectionate amusement. "Hermione and I were just discussing our lack of enthusiasm for tonight," she explained with a teasing lilt in her voice. "Is this where you chime in with the same sentiment?"

Harry's response was playful, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he met her gaze. "So, the ladies are dreading a night of dancing?" he feigned incredulity, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "Shouldn't we mark this momentous occasion somehow? Isn't this practically unheard of?"

Fleur's playful slap on Harry's shoulder elicited a mock offended gasp from him. "I'll have you know that I am not a prat," he retorted with exaggerated dignity. "I am a handsome, debonair, and altogether likable bloke, thank you very much."

Their laughter filled the room, a welcome respite from the weight of anticipation that hung in the air. But as the mirth subsided, Harry's expression softened, his gaze turning thoughtful as he regarded Fleur with genuine concern. "Seriously, though, I thought you ladies lived for this type of thing," he remarked, his voice tinged with genuine curiosity.

Fleur offered him a reassuring smile, though a flicker of anxiety lingered in her eyes. "I do enjoy dancing, especially when I'm with the right man," she confessed, her gaze meeting Harry's in silent affirmation of her feelings. His answering grin conveyed his understanding, a silent acknowledgment of the bond they shared. "But I must admit, I'm feeling a bit anxious tonight. This isn't like the Yule Ball; it's much more serious, and the atmosphere will be completely different. It's a high society event, and those can be rather dull. And then there's the fact that there will undoubtedly be some less-than-welcoming individuals in attendance, not to mention those who might resent me for being with the 'golden boy'."

Harry's response was immediate and emphatic. "They're not worth our time if they can't see what a wonderful person you are," he declared, his tone laced with conviction. "And if anyone dares to cause trouble, we can always rely on Matty to show them the door."

The mental image of their diminutive house-elf single-handedly ejecting an unruly guest brought a giggle to Fleur's lips, and she playfully swatted at Harry in response. Their shared laughter filled the room, a testament to the bond they shared and the comfort they found in each other's presence.

But as the levity faded, Harry's demeanor shifted once more, his expression growing serious as he broached a topic of importance. "Fleur, there's something I wanted to talk to you about," he began hesitantly, his gaze searching hers for understanding.

Fleur's heart swelled with affection as Harry expressed his gratitude, his words carrying a weight of sincerity that touched her deeply. Returning his embrace with equal warmth, she felt a surge of gratitude for the bond they shared, strengthened by the trials they had faced together.

"It means the world to me, Harry," Fleur murmured, her voice soft with emotion. "But you must understand, you're not just a guest in our home. You're family now, and we'll stand by you no matter what."

Harry nodded, his expression earnest as he continued. "I do understand that," he affirmed, his gaze unwavering. "But I can't help but feel the weight of the risk you and your family are taking by openly supporting me. Your father didn't have to agree to our betrothal, and I'm acutely aware of the danger it puts you all in. I just want you to know how grateful I am."

Fleur's heart ached at Harry's humble acknowledgment of the sacrifices her family had made on his behalf. "We wouldn't have it any other way," she reassured him, resting her head against his shoulder. "Papa has always believed that Voldemort's threat extends far beyond Britain. He sees this betrothal as a way to strengthen our position and defend our interests. It's about more than just us—it's about securing a powerful alliance between our families, one that could have far-reaching implications."

Harry's expression softened with understanding, his eyes reflecting the depth of his gratitude. "Your father's foresight is remarkable," he commented. "But I still want you to know how much I appreciate everything you and your family are doing for me."

Fleur's heart skipped a beat as Harry's words lingered in the air, a silent testament to the bond they shared and the depth of his gratitude. "I'm glad you feel that way, Harry," she replied, her voice filled with warmth. "We're in this together, after all."

As Harry broached the topic of making a gesture to express his appreciation, Fleur's curiosity was piqued. She couldn't help but wonder what he had in mind, her anticipation mounting with each passing moment.

Fleur's protests were halted as Harry gently pressed his fingers to her lips, silencing her objections with a tender gesture. Turning to face her more directly, he took a deep breath, his eyes filled with earnest determination as he began to speak.

"Fleur, I know you don't seek recognition for your kindness, but that doesn't diminish my gratitude. If anything, it amplifies it," Harry started, his voice imbued with sincerity. "I wanted to find a way to express my appreciation, to offer you a gift that embodies the depth of my esteem for you. I know I gave you and Hermione similar gifts at Christmas, but I wanted this to be something exclusively yours."

From within his jacket, Harry produced a satin box that sparkled in the ambient light of the room. Fleur's breath caught in her throat as she gazed at the box in wonder, her heart fluttering with anticipation.

"I've been contemplating this idea for some time now, but it wasn't until recently that it solidified into a plan," Harry continued, his eyes locking with hers. "I realize that we're formally and magically betrothed, yet you don't wear any visible symbol of our bond. I wanted to change that. This isn't a formal proposal—not yet," he added with a mischievous grin, eliciting a playful smile from Fleur. "But yesterday, with Sirius's help, I visited my family's vaults. Though I'm restricted in what I can do until I come of age, we managed to convince the goblins that I should be allowed to retrieve this box as your betrothed."

As Harry lifted the box between them, Fleur's heart raced with anticipation. With trembling hands, he opened it, revealing a simple yet elegant ring nestled within. Crafted from white gold, the ring featured three delicate diamonds set into the band on either side of the centerpiece. At the heart of the ring lay two intertwined hearts, one slightly smaller than the other, each adorned with a gemstone—ruby and sapphire—representing their respective birth months. It was a symbol of their bond, tasteful and understated yet imbued with profound significance.

Fleur's eyes widened in awe as she beheld the ring, her heart overflowing with emotion at the thoughtful gesture. It was perfect, just like the man who had presented it to her.

Fleur's breath caught in her throat as she listened to Harry's explanation, her heart swelling with emotion at the significance of the ring he had chosen. She reached out to touch the delicate band with trembling fingers, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

"It's... it's stunning," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath as she marveled at the beauty of the ring.

Harry's words only added to the poignancy of the moment, his revelation about the ring's history tugging at Fleur's heartstrings. She couldn't help but smile at the image of Harry's parents, their love immortalized in the very ring that now lay before her.

"So, it's sort of a family heirloom," Harry continued, a hint of pride evident in his voice. "My father gave it to my mother as a sign of his commitment to her. And now, I want to give it to you, as a promise of my own commitment."

Fleur's heart swelled with emotion as Harry slipped the ring onto her finger, her breath catching in her throat as she felt its weight settle against her skin. A warm glow spread through her chest as the ring shimmered for a moment, the sizing charm adjusting it to fit perfectly.

"I would be honored to wear it," Fleur murmured, her voice thick with emotion as she met Harry's gaze. "Thank you, Harry."

But Harry shook his head, his eyes shining with sincerity. "No, thank you," he insisted, his voice soft yet resolute. "Thank you for everything."

As their eyes met in a silent exchange of love and gratitude, Fleur felt a sense of peace settle over her. In that moment, she knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, their bond stronger than ever before.

Fleur admired the ring on her finger, her heart swelling with gratitude for the thoughtfulness Harry had shown. She couldn't help but marvel at the transformation she had witnessed in him—from the shy and uncertain boy she had first met to the confident and resolute young man standing before her. He had grown into his reputation, shedding the cloak of doubt to reveal the strength and determination that lay beneath. He was no longer the "little boy" she had once perceived him to be, and she cherished him all the more for it.

Glancing up at Harry through her lashes, Fleur couldn't suppress a coy smile as she teased, "Isn't it customary for the young man to seal such a promise with a kiss?"

Harry's grin was infectious as he responded, "Absolutely," before leaning in to brush his lips against hers.

The kiss was tender and sweet, a reflection of the affection and respect that defined their relationship. Though Fleur couldn't help but crave a more passionate embrace, she cherished the gentleness of Harry's touch, knowing that it spoke volumes about his regard for her.

As they reluctantly pulled away from each other, Harry's regretful smile mirrored her own sentiments. "I suppose we should make our way downstairs," he remarked, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "Your father might start to wonder where we've disappeared to."

Fleur arched an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eyes. "Does my father know about this?" she inquired, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips.

Harry chuckled sheepishly. "Well, he was there when I asked Sirius about it," he confessed. "But he hasn't seen the ring yet."

"In that case, he can wait," Fleur declared, tugging Harry closer with a mischievous grin. "I'm sure he'll understand the need for a little celebration."

With a shared laugh, they surrendered to the allure of their private celebration, savoring each moment as they reveled in the joy of their newfound bond. For Fleur and Harry, the promise of their future together was a source of endless excitement, and they were determined to cherish every moment along the way.

As they made their way down the grand staircase, Fleur clinging to Harry's arm, the couple savored the intimacy of their shared moment. Each step brought them closer to the ballroom, where their friends and family awaited them, their presence a testament to the growing bond between Harry and Fleur. It was a journey they had embarked upon together, their relationship evolving gradually over time, and now, as they walked side by side, they couldn't help but feel the weight of its significance.

Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of relief as they approached the ballroom. Jean-Sebastian's reassurances about Fleur's reaction to the ring had eased his nerves, but the anticipation still lingered, mingled with a hint of apprehension. Giving a promise ring was no small gesture, and Harry couldn't help but wonder how Fleur would receive it.

As they entered the ballroom, Harry couldn't ignore the curious glances directed their way, even from those who were unaware of his intentions for the evening. He felt a light blush creeping up his cheeks under the scrutiny, exacerbated by Sirius's teasing remarks.

"Well, well, looks like someone took their sweet time," Sirius quipped, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he addressed Jean-Sebastian. "I hope you didn't have to send out a search party."

Jean-Sebastian chuckled, his amusement evident as he exchanged a knowing glance with Sirius. "Indeed, it seems Harry and Fleur were in no rush," he replied, his tone lighthearted.

Sirius couldn't resist taking it a step further, teasing Harry about a stray smudge of lipstick—a playful jab that only served to deepen Harry's embarrassment. As Sirius wiped away the evidence with a flourish, Harry's attempt at a stern glare faltered in the face of their laughter.

Despite the teasing, Harry couldn't help but smile, the warmth of their camaraderie a comforting reminder of the bonds they shared. And as Jean-Sebastian chuckled heartily at Sirius's antics, Harry couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for the family he had found in the Delacours—a family that had welcomed him with open arms and embraced him as one of their own.

Apolline's admonishment only served to deepen Harry's embarrassment, though he couldn't help but chuckle at her playful reproach. "I promise, Mrs. Delacour, I'll do my best to resist Sirius's influence," he replied with a sheepish grin, earning a knowing nod from Apolline.

As she approached, Apolline greeted the couple with warmth and affection, bestowing a kiss on Harry's cheek before enveloping Fleur in a loving embrace. Harry couldn't help but feel a pang of gratitude for the maternal care she extended to him—a reminder of the family he had found in the Delacours.

Apolline's attention turned to Harry's robes, her hands deftly adjusting them with maternal precision. Harry couldn't suppress a smile at her fussing, wondering if it was a universal trait among mothers to fuss over their children's appearance.

"The guests will be arriving soon—we should take our places," Apolline announced, stepping back to survey her handiwork.

But her attention was soon drawn to the sparkling ring adorning Fleur's finger, and with a gasp of delight, she reached out to inspect it. Harry felt a flush of pride as Apolline admired the ring, grateful for her approval.

"It's exquisite, Fleur," Apolline exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with admiration. "A gift from Harry, I presume?"

Fleur nodded, her smile radiant. "Yes, Maman. Harry gave it to me just before we came down."

Hermione joined them, her eyes widening in awe as she admired the ring. Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at their approval, grateful for their support.

"It's a promise ring," Harry interjected, feeling compelled to explain. "I know we're already betrothed, but I wanted Fleur to have a visible symbol of my commitment. And I promise, when the time is right, I'll propose properly with an engagement ring."

As he spoke, Harry felt a surge of emotion, his gaze meeting Fleur's with unwavering determination. He knew their journey was just beginning, but with Fleur by his side and the support of their loved ones, he felt ready to face whatever the future held.

"Smooth moves, Potter," Hermione teased, a playful glint in her eyes. "Looks like there's hope for you yet."

Harry chuckled, his grin widening. "I certainly hope so."

Jean-Sebastian's voice cut through Harry's thoughts, drawing his attention. The father of his betrothed approached, his gaze assessing as he inspected the ring Harry had chosen. A smile of approval spread across Jean-Sebastian's face as he turned to Harry. "You've made a good choice, Harry. Fleur will be in good hands."

Harry nodded gratefully. "You can count on it, J.S. And I owe you my thanks for your support—it hasn't gone unnoticed, the risks you've taken for us."

Jean-Sebastian waved off Harry's gratitude. "It was the right thing to do. Now, let's make a show of unity and alliance for our guests, shall we?"

Sirius let out a wicked laugh. "And enjoy watching them squirm."

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